


Trophies

by Nadastra



Series: Awards [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider's Bad Parenting, Earth C (Homestuck), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Really more of an anxiety attack now that I think about it, We have moved up from baby panic attacks to toddler sized panic attacks, attempted self-harm, look how fast they grow up, potato patato
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28065318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadastra/pseuds/Nadastra
Summary: The noodles were found and the fire was turned up. Dave leaned against the counter waiting for the pot to come to a boil. His eyes slowly got lost in the churning water and his mind drifted away into the silence of the kitchen. It was so quiet, it made him feel like he had to stay silent too. Like at his apartment sneaking around trying to avoid running into his brother in a house he knew was empty.-“Hey so did you decide on what you wanted to make-” Karkat’s eyes met with Dave’s, then glanced down at his hand hanging inches from a pot of boiling water, “Dave what are you doing?”.In which Dave falls into old habits, Karkat is cares, and Dave finds out just how much you can not care about yourself before your boyfriend snaps..Oh you thought I was gonna go a whole semester and not write another vent fic to help get me through the objectively “worst academic semester of all time”? Think again baby.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Series: Awards [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052588
Kudos: 14





	Trophies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I have another Dave angst fic with themes of self harm. Yaaaaaay. This is really a logical continuation of my last one, which is now part of this series but also does not at all need to be read to enjoy this. People actually seemed to like my work last time and it really did mean a lot to me, so I have been polishing this up for a couple months. Again much of this is “based” off reality, mine or others, so if my narrative weaving isn’t perfect there is my totally perfect excuse. I hope you enjoy.

“Dave I swear to god,” Karkat said fiddling with the key to their apartment, “ if I have to stay in this touture device of an outfit for five more seconds I’m going to familiarize my foot with your ass”

“Dude,” Dave said as the door clicked open, “ you are wearing a button down. You are not in a fucking Iron Maiden.”

Dave closed the door behind them and laughed.

“Also I’m hurt. I had hoped most of you would be falimair with my ass by now”

“Fucking hell,” Karkat said with his face in his hands “Why did I set you up for that? Did I think it was so obvious and so dumb you wouldn’t go for it. What was 30 seconds ago Karkat thinking? He had too much faith.”

“Ah yes, 30 seconds ago Karkat. That sweet naive summer child. He was to good for this world.” He said “It's all good just go get out of those clothes and I'll start dinner.”

Dave glanced around and saw a thumbs up disappearing down the hallway.

He wasn't a great cook, not by any stretch of the imagination. The added difficulty of interspecies taste preferences not helping. Karkat was alway the one that could actually make a meal to the surprise of everyone. Did they all need to know Karkat had always wanted “just a safe home & someone to cook with”and a cheap candle lit dinner was always in his date night arsenal? Nah, that info could stay with him.

Dave caught himself smiling. _What a fucking romantic._

But he found, after about a year and a half of watching Karkat throw things in a pot, that he could actually make something edible, hell even good on occasion . He liked doing it, letting Karkat rest, letting him just sit back and enjoy. He was able to do something, make something for him. He honestly had to pat himself on the back given he hadn't ever cooked before, and it's not like he could have watched Bro…

And like that it felt like he had just swallowed a bowling ball.

 _Nope_ ,he thought, _not right now. Not in the mood. Just going to make this fucking dinner._

He began quickly pulling pots and pans out of the cupboards. In a few minutes he had a pot of water going as he looked around for some noodles.

“Where the fuck are you ya little assholes?” he said to no one but himself.

The annoyance began to grow as he couldnt find them. He just wanted to make Karkat dinner and he was starting to get hungry…

He could feel it, centered in his stomach. The dull ache that lasted and lasted and lasted. His nerves flooded with deja vu. He felt his body start to be pulled through the floor.

_No! No we are making fucking pasta come on Strider._

His fumbling slightly more frantic, the noodles were found and the fire was turned up. Dave leaned against the counter waiting for the pot to come to a boil. His eyes slowly got lost in the churning water and his mind drifted away into the silence of the kitchen. It was so quiet, it made him feel like he had to stay silent too. Like at his apartment sneaking around trying to avoid running into his brother in a house he knew was empty. A sliver of ice went down his spine.

He is always baffled by things like this. You'd think with all of the things in his life: the game, the dying and watching yourself die, etc. his mind would drift to that. But no. His mind always wanted to go farther back. Every time.

He felt like he didn't have permission to move, if he did the bubble would pop. All of this would be gone. He would be back in a kitchen in Texas, and all of this would have been a dream. Nothing felt real. Dave felt his spirits continue to sink and every inch of him wanted to run to the fridge to check. Empty or full, real or fake, he needed an answer. But he kept his eyes on the pot.

His hand moved closer. He felt wrong.

Closer.

He felt empty.

Closer.

When did that even happen?

He could now feel the heat with his hand. It felt almost like the heat could fill that sudden emptiness.

How hot was that pot anyway?

_I want to. Just to snap me out of this, just to prove this is real._

As his hand dangled over the pot it felt like it was less of if but of how long until he dunked in his hand. A familiar deep ache came and the pot became more and more alluring.

_And if it isn't then I guess that kind of dumbass deserves it._

His want for it and fear played a tug of war. But that was just him, what about Karkat. He would have to see, he would hear. The thought of doing that to him was enough to inch his hand away.

A small part of him was able to see, see what he was doing. He honestly wished it had not. Because upon realizing he had been brought here again the tsunami of horrible feeling crashed back into him. He might as well be a kid in a kitchen in Texas, the way he was a deer in the headlights. He couldn't move almost staring through the water. He was stuck and he hated it.

Shame and anger lingered in his blood. Shame for himself and anger for...

For him.

That rarely happened. Usually it's just extreme sadness and self loathing which were, granted, here and present for class. But he could see his Bro in his mind, cold shades looking down at him. Then gone. The house empty, for days on end.

The anger continued. He was hurting. He didn't even know how it had ramped up this far this quickly but he was hurting and angry… he wanted to cause damage, to hurt something. The object of ire was long gone, and he would never hurt someone else.

So it had to be himself.

It would hurt like a motherfucker. But it would be something, and he needed something because he was falling deeper and deeper into his mind and feeling less and less of his body. Skin being replaced with pure tension. Muscle disgust and bones solidified memories. All held together by the ache in his stomach. Maybe he would pass out, it seems unlikely but oh to be unconscious right about now. But that would be really shitty for… for Karkat. He could see his face staring at him, a mix of disgust and horror. He wouldn't do that to him. Right?

_This is stupid_ , he thought , _what was I thinking this is to much. Talk about dramatic Strider. I should just go sit down. I know I can't do it. But, maybe just a small thing. Something to take the edge off, something to just make this be over. Something small he won't even notice. He doesn't need to know; he won't need to hurt because of me. If i could just remember where the knife drawer is-_

“Hey so did you decide on what you wanted to make- Dave what are you doing?”

* * *

Karkat made it into their room at the end of the hall. His feet were killing him and he wanted nothing more than to take these stupid shoes off. As he made it to the bed he kicked them off missing the closet completely. Karkat dropped onto the bed and let his muscles relax. He should hurry up and help Dave with dinner. He could handle it himself, but Karkat didnt like leaving all the work up to him. Besides he enjoyed it, making things together.

But first out of these god forsaken clothes. They had gone out with friends and Dave had convinced him to put on some of his “nice clothes”. He didn't know what made them nice, they were more uncomfortable than anything but Dave's comments of wanting to look hot together had his cheeks blushing and his tune changing quickly.

Clad in sweatpants and a sweater Karkat made his way back, doing a little hop into the door frame for effect, words already loaded.

“Hey so did you decide on what you wanted to make-” his eyes met with Dave’s, then glanced down at his hand hanging inches from a pot of boiling water, “Dave what are you doing?”

He could feel his voice tremble, he couldn't help it. He had been taken by more surprise than he knew was possible. Before he could even think he was across the kitchen grabbing his boyfriends hand and yanking it away from the pot.

“Dave what the hell are you doing,” he could feel his heartbeat pick up, the panic in his mind matching that on Dave's face, “are- are you okay you almost- shit, what were you thinking!”

Dave was silent.

“Dave.”

No sound.

“Dave.”

Just the gurgle of the boiling water.

“Dave please what the hell were you doing?”

He watched as Daves head fell, panicked eyes no longer looked at him but the floor instead.

In a mermer so full of sadness and shame Dave finally spoke. Three words.

“I’m sorry Karkat.”

* * *

Everything happened in slow motion and at the speed of light. One moment Karkat was at the door, his expression changed almost instantly and Dave felt like he looked at it for days. Suddenly Karkat was yanking his hand away, then his eyes bored holes into him slowly and deliberately.

Dave hadn't wanted this. His heart shattered at the look in his boyfriends eyes. He tried to speak, to explain, or do something, but his lips did not move. For once in his life he desperately wanted to start talking. He was stuck in his body, forced to watch tears form in Karkat's eyes. He seeked out something, the only sentence strong enough to make it through.

“I’m sorry Karkat.”

He couldn’t really focus on what Karkat is saying. He could only feel.

Embarrassed

Sorry

So fucking sad

And angry at himself.

_What did I do? He looks so upset. I’m sorry. I wasn't gonna, fuck I ruined it. He looks so upset. God why does his tears have to be red? I’m already going to have nightmares about this why the fuck do his tears have to look like fucking blood on top of all this?Shit he’s mad at me. Of course he is look at what you've done. Almost did. Fuck! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m-_

“Dave please, I need you to talk to me. It’s you favorite pastime, indulge a little. For me.”

He had to give him something. If he could just get a few more words out the ball would be rolling. But a thought gave him hesitation.

“Hungry,” he managed, “I was hungry.”

“I mean I'm hungry too but I don't understand why that made you try and high five the bottom of a pot of boiling water.”

“I- I was hungry. I was hungry and in the kitchen with a dull ache in my body. It was so familiar. I- I couldn’t NOT think about it. About how I'd been here before.”

Karkat’s hand held tight around his. He was thankful for it. He needed something real, something to tie him down to focus on in the storm of emotions. Keep him above water. And Karkat’s hands felt much better than fire.

“ I couldn't- everything stopped feeling real. Like if I moved too much everything would fall apart and I would still be in that fucking apartment,” Dave was suprised it took him this long to feel tears on his face. Maybe he had just now noticed them, “everything would have been fake or an elaborate dream of another life. It wouldn't be the first time I've thought about that kind of thing. I was fading in and out of the world, Karkat. My brain fried, it was all too much. I couldn't remember if all of this, if you were real.”

“You needed proof,” Karkat finished for him, “Okay Dave I understand that but why… that. You could have found me, looked outside, literally anything else. Why?”

“I don't want you to be mad,” he said softly. When did his voice get so small? So weak. He felt a disapproving glare coming from god know where, “ just so many thoughts came in so quickly. I- I got overwhelmed and I couldn't think straight and needed a hand hold somewhere. And I was so mad and angry and full of tension, god, Karkat it felt like I was going to snap in half. And it all just hurt.”

Arms slowly wrapped around him. “Let's get out of here. Let's sit down.” Karkat said.

* * *

Once Karkat had gotten Dave to the living room he had no clue where to go from there. He had never been with Dave for something like this. He had held him through nightmares, listened to his stories, assured him that he loved him. He had been told about this, but it sounded like a problem from long ago. He had no clue he still felt the need to...do this.

His heart ached. He didn't know this could still happen; he should have known but he didn't. A selfish part of him felt hurt. Weren't things good? Not perfect, but better than things were for Dave back then, right? Was he not doing enough; was he hurting him and Dave just loved him too much to say anything?

“So, um,” Karkat said, unsure how to even go about it, “you said you were hurting. I don't know how, what you mean?”

“Um”, Dave said, “I don't know how to explain it. There was just so much...feeling? Like every part of me was vibrating uncontrollably. And my brain said ‘this is too much, peace’ and I just wasn't there? It was like I was floating and stuck in my own body. Stuck watching it move on it’s own from behind the glass. And like that, you feel empty and... that kind of emptiness hurts. You're empty and you know any minute the space will be filled by nothing but your most horrible thoughts. Which feels, and we polled the audience for this one, absolutely shit.”

“Okay, it hurt. But can this live audience explain how does hurting yourself make it any better?”

“It hurts. It is painful but it's not physical.'' He could see Dave's body tense up and hear his voice strain , “I can't point to the muscle that's bleeding but I can feel it all throughout me. But I can't really feel it, or at least it doesn't feel real. Which makes no sense. It feels like I'm making the pain up. Whether or not this is real is unconfirmed. Maybe if it was made physical it would be worth dealing with. Have it be an actual wound making me suffer and not just me overthinking things. There is no way to reach the point post pain if it is not really felt. Maybe if I go all in, get the main event over with, max out the pain now, then I will reach the end faster. Take what I deserve first thing and stop side stepping.”

“Dave you don't deserve that I know you know that”, Karkat said wincing at the hint of real anger in his voice.

“I messed up, I don't know how, but I feel this way so I must have done something wrong? You mess up, you hurt, it's over. But the lighter you make the pain the longer it will last. You feel like you're going to break if it lasts too long, Karkat.

“Everything feels wrong and contradictory. I feel so full of emptiness. There is this painful hollowness. I am a shell made of glass and my insides are a vacuum, empty and pulling everything in. I’m left constantly feeling like the glass will break and I will be pulled in. That emptiness is pulling so hard that I can feel the pressure on the glass. All tension and strain. If I don't lessen the pressure everything will break. Man, listen to me. That doesn’t even make any sense. Full of emptiness what the fuck does that even mean? Actually Rox might... Hmm remind me to pick their brain at some poi-”

“Dave,” he interrupted, grabbing the conversation steering wheel “ Bring it back around.”

He was trying so hard to make it make sense to put himself in his shoes, but it just did connect. He knew those feelings. Anger, fear, the idea of your entire existence could come to a painful abrupt end. He had just never even thought about legitamently giving into it. He would get it in his head that “Hey maybe all of society is right and I am a deviant monstrosity deserving of being culled”, but the part of him that runs on pure anger and spite never quite let him hang onto the thought. He guessed he had to thank it, without it, he realized, there were a lot of times where it would have been so easy to break.

* * *

Everything still just hurts. This time in a different way. His mouth is moving but his mind is watching a horrible tape on loop.

A scream.Karkats scared face running to him.His hand burnt. Another scream not from him this time.

A pit grew in his stomach.

Jesus he was so stupid. What was he thinking trying something that big, that dramatic. He was asking to get caught. If he had just settled for something smaller none of this would have happened. He would have chickened out like he alway did. No one would have known but him, and it would only be a tally added to a log of almosts.

Everything had become too much and he wanted off this wild ride. So Dave did what he did best. Joke smoke bomb.

* * *

The odd silence sat in between them. Karkat didn’t mind however, his mind was racing. How could he help? How could he stop this from happening again? What if it did? Should he bring it up to the rest of the Stralonde clan? Did they even have a clue?

“Hey it's all okay Kar,” Dave said in a disturbingly chipper tone for the situation,”it wouldn't have done anything, or gone too far. I'm functionally immortal, and I doubt a pot of water could be seen as a tool for just killing.”

That was it. The last thread keeping Karkat composed, keeping the fear and realization of just how little Dave actually cares for himself at bay, snapped. A gust of emotion blew his mouth open and words rushed out.

“Stop Dave, just… fuck! Stop that! Stop deflecting and deflecting and hiding! Im… I'm so worried about you and you sit there throwing jokes at me with tears in your eyes like it's not a big deal. Dave, holy shit, Dave you got hungry and almost boiled your hand thinking it was a good idea!”

He felt tight. Too angry to think that maybe exploding at his boyfriend who just dissociated so hard the only way he could think to come back was to hurt himself was a bad idea.

Kanaya had told him once. “You know Karkat, as much as you refuse to admit it you care about people. You can't help it. You feel too deeply and if you let yourself care about everything you'll destroy yourself. So I know that's why you are how you are.”

She was right. He did care too deeply. A heart too big and he could feel it pulsing out of his chest threatening to spill into his lungs. The pain of that would make anyone angry, wouldn’t it?

“Just please Dave PLEASE can you just try to care about yourself? Genuinely for once! Because I do and it's lonely being the only one in this house who does”, he didn’t notice he had stood up until he felt his legs give out leaving him back on the coach, “I love you too much to… see you do this to yourself.”

His head was bowed as he reached to find Dave's shoulder. He was met with air as Dave shrunk back.

An inaudible whisper.

Karkat looked up to see Dave's mouth moving, but was unable to tell the words. He just sat there staring at him not moving a muscle, but now it was loud enough to hear.

“I'm sorry. I won't do it again, please please please I’m so sorry dont hate me please I'm so sorry just don’t leave. I know I ruined it but please I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”

* * *

There it was. What he had been dreading all this time. That look of sadness, anger, and frustration. That look of disappointment. This was somehow worse than what he knew. No cold gaze and thumbs down. No, he really had to be punished for this apparently, because seeing Karkat’s eyes fill with hurt was a pain unimaginable.

Karkat was upset. He was disappointed in him. He had failed him. He hadn’t cared about him. He had just gone and did what he wanted.

Dave’s mouth started moving. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know what broke, but everything felt like he was falling. He was losing everything. He had seen Karkat mad before. He was mad 80% of the time he was awake, but most of it was superficial. It was loud and full of movement, more for show and exaggeration, or at least not directed at him. At most it was that weird black rom rivalry kinda anger karkat talks about.

Never this. Anger large but body subdued. No, this type of anger he knew, it was familiar, not the same but familiar, and he had never wanted to cause it in Karkat.

Apologize. Promise. Beg. Please, he couldn't lose him to his own mistakes. Guilt ran through him as he flinched away from his hand.

_He would never hurt me, why am I doing this? Do I not trust him? Am I that shitty?_

“No, no shit,” Karkat said, “Dave I should be sorry. Fuck I shouldn’t have… Dave it’s okay. Please.”

Even this sounded familiar. How many times was he going to force them to play this scene out?

His mouth couldn't do anything else, he was stuck on repeat. The loop that only lived in his head at times like these finally managed to make its way out. He figured this is what happens when you get too comfortable. Maybe this is why he always was told not to.

“Please please please, I'm sorry. I won’t do it again I'm sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. Just don't be angry please please Im begging you, I wont again I promise just please don't be mad…”

“I'm not mad,” Karkat tried to say as gently as he could, “no I just. Fuck. Why? I just want to know why. So I can stop you from feeling like that again.”

“I just… I just wanted to.” he said not frustrated or angry. Just as plainly as you would talk about the weather, defeated almost. He had no more excuses, no way to spin it, “I just wanted to do it. I was hurting and I wanted to hurt more. It felt right. It felt like what I deserved. I just wanted that extra bit of suffering. It’s what my brain wanted. What I wanted. I can't explain it anymore than that.”

He felt so ashamed admitting it. He felt weak and powerless and everything he was not supposed to be. He was sitting bitching and moaning, again. He cringed at how dramatic everything made him feel. He’s making too much of a deal out of this.

“Sometimes it just feels like the next logical illogical step.” He forced himself to continue, “I wouldn’t think about it if I could but I can’t. After, umm, everything went down I could just not think about it. Hell I barely thought about it when it was happening. Even with three years to stew it only barely started to creep in at the end. And then with everything on Earth-C getting started there was always something just a little more important that my brain could latch onto.

“But things have settled. The game, that’s something we all share, it’s somehow easier to deal with. This, my life before, it was just me. It’s only in my head. And even then my friends also had shitty lives and guardians, hell Dirk and Roxy didn’t physically see another human being for the first time until they entered the game. They lived in the literal ‘humanity is dead and fucked waterworld fucking apocalypse.’, and I know you hate it when I bring up Alternia but Jesus Christ dude. I know I should be able to talk about it with you guys, but fuck, it just still feels so wrong to do. To vent, to complain in any genuine way, or to ask for comfort. Fuck even saying it out loud makes me feel like a cheesy after school special. God I can feel him laughing at me!”

“He’s right there”, he says gesturing in front of him, “looking down on me and judging me for feeling anything other than cool guy indifference!

“I don’t know why I care! Guess what Karkat? He’s dead! I’m alive! He lost! I outlasted him! I won the strife of life! Well if you ignore other timelines and god teir shenanigans- fuck dude you know what I mean. I won! Give me my goddamn trophy already! Striders don’t care about losers. I’m finally not a loser so why should I care about him?”

Who was he kidding. He cared. The more he tried not to the more he did. It was an itch that felt wrong to scratch but got more intense by the day.

“Maybe I am the loser,” he said slowly, “Maybe he did win. Even in fucking death he never lost his iron grip on me. In death he still fucking wins, and I’m just a hard to kill loser. Don’t you see this kind of bullshit is why my brain says I deserve it? I deserve to hurt. He still has me. Even when I win I lose, and what do losers do?”

The anger. It was back. It almost felt nice. A burn in his chest a few degrees too hot to be pleasant. When was the last time he let himself really truly be mad? Be mad and show it?

He looked Karkat dead in the eye.

“We hurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things started to take a bit of a thematic and subject matter-y turn, so I split this into 2 chapters. Again thanks a lot for taking time to read me projecting too hard onto Dave Strider, and if you like that for some reason and want more, ~this is now a series and the previous work still exists and there will be more additions~ Okay that’s it thanks bye. :3 (also merry Christmas and my Twitter is @adegreeinsad)


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